Serpents and Mudbloods: Dolosus Certamen
by Astrea Von Hurston
Summary: Tracey Davis, a slightly misunderstood elevenyearold girl, finds herself receiving the chance of a lifetime to attend a real wizarding school. But she finds herself in danger as a muggleborn when she is unexpectedly sorted into Slytherin. Ch. 6 now up.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: This is my revision of Serpents and Muggleborns because I felt that the former was embarrassing and had unrealistic characters with unrealistic conversations and personalities. I hope you like it this way, but if you miss the original, just tell me, and I will continue that instead. This is really only an introduction chapter to Tracey's old world, nothing exciting just yet._

_Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Snape and them are not my own. Tear._

_Chapter One: Despite That Little Fact_

"This world has become increasingly boring," the eleven-year-old sighed, nudging her eraser towards the end of the desk, then catching it before it could fall to the floor. "What fun is there left?"

"Bloody Germans," her best friend cursed rather randomly, watching with wide brown eyes as the other girl caught the pink eraser again.

"Une gomme," the girl with the eraser murmured. She looked up to see her friend giving her a curious look. "It's French, umm, for eraser."

"It's making me hungry, Tracey, do you have any blowing gum?"

"How can that not make you hungry?" Tracey inquired, observing thoughtfully how their conversation was really rather pointless and came to absolutely no conclusion at all. But what else were they to do during this boring Tuesday afternoon?

Tracey hated Tuesdays.

She especially hated them during the summer.

While her parents were at work.

"It's a scientific fact," the girl began, which usually meant she was going to quote her older brother David, who was as dumb as a pile of rocks, "that if you chew gum, your stomach will come to the conclusion that you have eaten something. It's rather remarkable."

It used to amuse Tracey when her friend tried to act smart.

Now it just annoyed her.

"Emily, you wanna watch the telly?" said Tracey, in an attempt to change the subject.

"Can't right now," Emily replied, as she held a strand of her dirty blonde hair and examined it closely.

Boy, was Emily Thompson the most exciting person you could meet...

"Fine, I'll be downstairs," Tracey sighed, exiting her pink and blue bedroom and making her way down the royal blue carpeted staircase to the living room.

As she turned on the television, she laid her head back and gazed up at the tan ceiling, admiring the rays from the window that made the chandelier glow in many pretty colors.

Tracey Davis was most known to be boring and too thoughtful, mostly because she found life a waste of breath. She never really found anything interesting, and was below average in her imagination compared to other children. She had no goals, no dreams, she just settled her mind on the present and got the good grades her mind deserved. She was a spectacular student, expect when it came to creativity. Unlike the other girls, she didn't enjoy the thought of unicorns and such. She was just too damn realistic for her own good. She was boring because she was bored, and she was bored because life was boring. Despite the fact that she could make friends easily with her charming personality (when she chose to use it), she still felt somewhat left out from this big secret called, "How To Be Normal."

Everyone seemed to understand their life besides her, and not because she was depressed or anything, she was just misunderstood. Then, there were those little "incidents", that didn't occur very often, but when they did... well, wow. Like, for instance, when she had been bullied by a few of her older classmates, making her feel very angry, their hair had suddenly turned a nasty shade of green, causing them to scream and run in circles until an adult arrived. Luckily, Tracey hadn't gotten in trouble, not that she had done anything physically, but she had a feeling it had been her fault anyway.

The situations all seemed to be the same, when she felt a very strong emotion, something weird would happen. It was starting to scare Tracey. Luckily, none of her friends knew nor noticed.

A flapping of wings brought her out of her reverie, and she looked forward at the television, only to find it muted. She glanced around curiously, drawing her long wavy black hair into a small bun at the nape of neck before standing and stepping into the kitchen, which faced the front of the house. She looked out the little window above the sink, only to find the gate closed and the yard empty. The sound of wings were not like the kind she normally heard from pigeons or any other bird in the area. It was... special.

Footsteps behind Tracey caused her to jump in surprise, black eyes immediately narrowing when she saw it was Emily.

"You nearly scared me to death. Was that you making that weird flapping noise?" Tracey asked, hands on her little hips.

"No..." Emily replied, pale eyebrow raised as she made her way over to the refrigerator, grabbed a plastic cup, and poured herself a generous amount of cranberry juice.

Tracey hated the stuff and grimaced as her friend took a big long sip from her drink.

"Oh, sorry then," she smiled at Emily and grabbed two apples, one green and one red. She held onto the green one and tossed the other over to Emily, who caught it with ease.

"Wanna watch the telly _now_?" Tracey inquired as they exited the kitchen and entered the living room.

"Sure," Emily shrugged and plopped onto the seat beside Tracey who turned on the television.

After a few minutes of silence, Emily turned to her friend and asked, quite suddenly, "Do you believe in magic?"

"No," was the simple answer she received.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: I know, incredibly short as well, but my muse has just not been working since my latest video project, which turned out magnificently, but still, that's no excuse for bad writing. Apologies! Well, so far, the story is quite different from the original, and it might just be stupider. Please warn me if it's just too idiotic to keep up, okay? Much love to that **one** reviewer! Because everyone who has read this caused my inspiration to drop with lack of reviews. I adore constructive criticism (except **just **criticism, because that's just rude) and any kind of reviews, they help me keep the story going._

_Disclaimer: Some character and other stuff aren't mine!_

Chapter 2 

When Tracey's mother, Anne Davis, entered the house, the girls had fallen asleep on the couch, laying side by side and breathing softly. Anne smiled faintly to herself as she set her briefcase down next to the door and made her way over to the young girls.

She snapped her long fingers in Tracey's ear and said, "Sleepovers usually occur at night, correct?"

Tracey snorted and sat up, as Emily wiped at her chin self-consciously, both looked funny with their hair sticking up at odd ends and tangled ferociously in the front and back. Tracey smiled at her mother sardonically and flicked a piece of dust from Emily's hair.

"We were watching an old movie of yours," she said.

"It wasn't that exciting," Emily added, motioning to their "bed hair".

"Obviously," Anne Davis returned. "Emily have you called your mother?"

Emily's smirk dropped and she jumped from the couch, "No. Oh lord, where's the phone?"

"By the coat rack," Anne sighed, watching Emily scramble out of the room before plopping down beside her daughter. "Tracey, we need to talk."

Tracey looked up at her mother's worn face, she looked stressed and exhausted. She always looked like that, and it made the young girl wonder what her mom went through everyday. Her father was always in a good mood, but hardly ever her mother. This time she looked extra bad, bags under her eyes and frown lines etched permanently at the sides of her mouth.

"You've been receiving letters, Tracey," she said, almost choking on her words.

"What kind?" Tracey asked, confused at her mother's reaction to the fact that people might want to correspond with her daughter.

"Letters, that are a bit, unorthodox," Anne explained, reaching into her purse and pulling out a very thick bundle of envelopes.

Tracey's eyebrows raised in surprise. She stared at the letters clutched in her mother's shaking hands. Were these letters bad? Were they threats? She could feel the tears that were welling up in her mother's eyes fill up hers as well. She didn't want to die, and Anne made it seem like she was going to.

"Can I see?" Tracey asked, reaching out for them, and it was then that her mother did a very odd thing.

She jumped back from her own daughter, stuffing the letters back in her purse and looking at Tracey as if she was insane.

"No!"

Tracey looked at this woman, who certainly wasn't her mum. Anne Marie Davis never shook when she was scared, she was always composed and ready for anything. But tonight, she was suddenly looking at her daughter as if she was a ghost.

"Mum, your scaring me," Tracey whispered, fair eyes wide and frightened.

Anne breathed out slowly, shaking her head and whispering to herself. She looked up at her daughter and sighed, "I'm sorry I scared you. I'm just really stressed out right now, with work and everything."

"Of-of course," Tracey stuttered, scooting away and looking down at her feet.

"Tracey, I apologize," she said, straightening her clothes so that she looked as strict and perfect as ever. "These letters... well, I'll show you them later, when your father comes home."

"Yes, ma'am," the younger girl replied.

"Good... then, I best get started on dinner," her mother said, clearing her throat and making her way out of the room.

It was a few minutes before Emily entered, carrying her things. She smiled at Tracey, saying, "My mum's on her way, in a right foul mood I might add."

"Oh okay," Tracey muttered.

"You okay? You look as if you'd just seen a ghoul or something."

"Nothing of the sort, I'm just exhausted. I'll see you Monday, then?" Tracey said, hugging her best friend limply.

"Oui, madamoiselle," Emily returned with a grin, just as the doorbell rang. "That must be my mother. Bye Tracey Davie!"

"Bye Emily," Tracey said, not noticing the confused look she received from Emily as the blonde exited through the front door.

---------------------------------

"Ah, smells like meatloaf," Tracey's father, Samuel, said as he took a seat at the dinner table.

"Oh, joy, for the third time this week," Tracey muttered, immediately receiving an amused grin from her father and a disapproving look from her mother.

"Tracey, be more thankful that there's actually cooked meat _on_ the table," Anne stated.

"Yes," Samuel grunted, covering his smile with his napkin, "some kids don't get to eat at all."

"I understand, sorry, Mum," Tracey sighed, as she stabbed her slice with a fork.

"Tracey," Anne said after a couple of minutes of silence.

"Yes?" Tracey replied, glancing at her father who seemed to know what was going on. Perhaps her mother had already told him.

The older woman noticed the look Tracey sent at Samuel, and said, "Your father knows."

"So, can I see these letters?" Tracey asked, looking back and forth between her parents, who both had become rather serious.

"I suppose," Anne replied, holding one of the envelopes out to her daughter, who nervously took them.

Tracey imagined a thousand scenarios; death threats, ransom notes, and many more awful things. Her hands shook as she looked at the front of the parchment envelope, it read in green ink:

_**Miss T. Davis**_

_**Second Largest Bedroom**_

_**27 Rectory Lane**_

_**Charlwood**_

_**Surrey**_

****"It sounds rather... stalker esque," Tracey said, using a phrase she had heard on the telly once. Her parents looked at each other curiously before returning their focus on her.

She tore through the wax crest that held it closed and stared at the contents, three or four pieces of parchment, all looking very official. Her eyebrows raised considerably, almost disappearing beneath her bangs as she read the mysterious letter.

"Curious," she murmured to herself, eyes roving over the small text of the letter.

_Dear Miss Davis,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on September 1. Also enclosed is a packet with the required information due to your non-magical parentage. We expect your owl before July 31._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall,_

_Deputy Headmistress_

She looked up at her mum and dad, unsure whether to laugh or just leave the table, furious that they had tricked her into thinking that this was something horrible. But when her black eyes connected with her mother's green, she could tell that this was still a serious matter.

"This is obviously a joke," Tracey said, waving the parchment about. "Magic doesn't exist, we all know that, right?"

She stared at her parents, feeling the color drain from her face.

"Right?" she repeated rather desperately.

"Dear, I have learned a lot about what surrounds us. A lot. We may not have these powers, but you do," Anne said, looking at Tracey with understanding eyes.

"Powers? Honestly, are you serious?" Tracey asked incredulously as she stood. "Mum, Dad, I thought you two were more reasonable than this! Magic, powers, wizardry, secret communities? Excuse my language, but this is a bunch of bloody shit!"

"Tracey!" Anne snapped, furious.

"Now, Trace, you are a very intelligent girl. Your mother knows this is true, I can't explain why, but she does. An address is given in the letter, we should at least see if it is correct," Samuel said, in a tone that meant that conversation was over.

Tracey sat, silent. He never used that tone with her. Obviously, this was a big deal, and she would have to stick through it until she could prove her parents wrong.

"We should get to bed," Anne muttered, and left the table, not even cleaning her plate.

Samuel stood as well, he looked downh at Tracey with sympathy. "I know this is incredibly sudden, but I do believe this is true. Your mother isn't off her rocker, as you might think, but... there are some things in her life, that you may not be able to understand, that makes her absolutely certain of this truth. Lord, even I really feel as if I have no idea what's going on. I mean honestly, a magical academy?"

"Exactly!" Tracey exclaimed, but her father shook his head.

"These people seem really intent, are meer pranksters like that?"

He left the room and left Tracey to her thoughts as she sat on her own at the dining room table, staring at her plate with furrowed eyebrows.

"What's going on?" she asked herself, feeling so confused that she did not notice her mother's plate slide across the table on its own accord and fall onto the carpetted floors without a sound. Nor the dozen or so owls perched on the tree branch outside, letters tied curiously to their feet.


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note:__ Gosh__ it's been so long since I've had anything to do with fanfiction, writing and even Harry Potter. My sudden entrance into the dating world has kept me busy, but let's not discuss my personal life. I like this chapter, and in the car I came up with so many plans for the future, because I do plan to turn this into a series. And if I believe in myself, I think I will. Please tell me if I spelled a name wrong or had some really bad grammar error somewhere. I can accept constructive criticism… I think._

_Disclaimer:__ Harry Potter is not mine. Let's leave it in simple terms, please. _

**Chapter Three**

Life had fallen into slow motion for Tracey, as summer neared autumn. Letters were tied to owls, pictures began moving, and china was beginning to explode at random moments. Along with going at a snail's pace, life had just become very abnormal.

The letter that had caused it all had been pinned to the bulletin board in the kitchen, like an excellent grade sheet or an award-winning essay. She found it too trivial and stupid to be allowed the honor of going on the bulletin board.

Her parents, though, thought different.

"Hello, my little witch," Samuel called as he pulled into the driveway. Tracey, who was sitting on the porch reading, blushed crimson and glared at her father. That was the millionth time that month he had called her by her little "nickname."

She presumed that it was because she still didn't believe all this mumbo jumbo, or just to remind her how weird she officially was. Either way, it was humiliating, and Emily was starting to ask suspicious questions.

"Salut, papa," Tracey replied without glancing up at him. She boredly flipped a page in her book and crossed her legs.

"Your mother still trying to turn you into a bilingual?"

"Trilingual, we started on Japanese today. Konnichi wa," Tracey said, finally looking up at him with tired eyes.

He walked up the steps to the porch and looked down at her as she sat. His grin faded into a look of worry.

"Have you been sleeping?" he asked, examining the shallow bags under her deep blue eyes.

"Of course, I've just been waking up early," she replied, and returned to her book.

Samuel cast curious eyes down upon her before nodding and entering the house in silence.

She lifted her head, looked around and sighed. It wasn't true, she was hardly sleeping. Nightmares had been plaguing her since that night her mother had displayed fear towards her... and that letter.

She would dream that she had a magician's wand, black with a white tip, and that she was waving it about unwillingly. Every time that wand pointed at her mother, the older woman would burst into flames with a bloodcurdling scream.

Tracey wasn't able to look her mother in the eye for a week.

A flutter of wings dragged Tracey from her thoughts and she immediately looked toward the sky, eyes squinted at the hot summer sun. Finding nothing, she bowed her head once more and continued reading.

"My god, Tracey Davis. You are so predictable! Reading on a nice summer day, with school approaching, no less. You ought to be ashamed of yourself!" shouted Emily, as her and her friend Samantha ran over to Tracey, both were in their bathing suits and quite tan and freckled from all the swimming they had enjoyed lately.

"Not in the mood," Tracey muttered, licking her index finger and slowly turning the page of her book.

"Bah. My dad's filling up our new built-in swimming pool," Samantha boasted, pulling up her straight red hair into a bun and wrinkling her little freckled nose at Tracey.

"Now is not a good time. Sorry," Tracey retorted.

Samantha was about to say something but Emily shushed her. "Tracey hasn't been feeling well."

"Oh," Samantha replied, frowning quite childishly.

"I'll see you later, Tracey," Emily called as she pulled Samantha out of the yard.

"Yeah!" the redhead added.

"Bye," Tracey muttered, before closing her book and heading inside.

The house was nice and cool compared to the porch and Tracey breathed in, the summer outside was suffocating. This was relaxing. She wasn't a warm type of person (physically), she liked a cool breeze, some rain. So obviously the summer wasn't her favorite season.

When she entered the living room she found her dad reading and her mom tending to the blaze in the fireplace. It was silent, except for the old grandfather clock near the doorway that Tracey was standing in. She liked to soak up silent moments such as these, the peace of it all, and she closed her eyes for a moment, not noticing her father lower his book and grin at her serene appearance.

"Dreaming in the doorway are we? Quite dangerous I would think," he observed, closing the thick novel in his lap and setting it aside as Tracey unwillingly opened her eyes.

"There isn't anyone in the house? Right?" Tracey sighed, hovering for a moment over the threshold before taking a seat on the couch beside her father.

He laughed, always amused by his daughter, and leaned back, placing his hands behind his head.

Meanwhile her mother had stood, grabbed the familiar old envelope and had taken a seat on the armrest next to her. She held said parchment in front of Tracey's face and said, "You have school supplies to buy, Miss."

"I refuse to!" Tracey blurted out, then covered her mouth as she saw her mother's disapproving look.

"It's best to take a look at something before you're sure you don't believe in it."

"What your mum said," Samuel agreed, messing with his daughter's long black hair before standing.

"This all stupid. Why don't _you_ two go. Leave me here to do more productive things with my time. I have a reading list to catch up on before I start school," Tracey said, tossing her hair back and crossing her arms stubbornly.

"The letter says we must be joined by **one** magical being. And you just happen to be ours," Samuel stated.

"We leave on Saturday," Anne added, before her and her husband left the room.

Tracey frowned at the floor, arms still crossed.

"It's all not very fair, is it?" she said to herself, kicking off her sandals and sinking into the soft cushions of the couch. She sighed heavily.

When she received no reply, even from herself, she stood and headed up to her room. Hoping to catch some much needed rest.

The heart-shaped face of an eleven-year old of average height and tiny shape, peeked over the passenger seat so as to get a better look at her father who was driving, a bit recklessly, might I add. She narrowed her blue eyes before leaning back into her seat, arms crossed over her chest.

"We're almost there," Anne sighed, as she read a nearby street sign.

"Good, I think my foot is falling asleep," Samuel said, chuckling for a moment before remembering the serious females that surrounded him.

As they drove on, Tracey shifted uncomfortably before looking out the window, watching the blurs of people and shops in London. It was all very nice and old, a city she enjoyed visiting, but now there was nothing to enjoy. She was being driven unwillingly to possibly the location of a cult or something very silly. Although, she thought as she smirked to herself, she had the satisfaction of being right. Oh, she loved that very much.

"Okay, it's on this street... and on the right. Be sure to keep an eye out, Tracey, for the, ahem, 'Leaky Cauldron'," her mother said, hesitating and pausing quite a bit as she spoke. This name was obviously very foreign to her.

Tracey looked out the window, bored and waiting till they could go home again. Then, all of a sudden, a name flashed for a millisecond in her vision before disappearing again.

"Stop!" she cried, instinctively grabbing something solid as her father skidded the car into halt.

She jumped out of the car, almost forgetting her seat belt, and stood on the sidewalk, breathing heavily as a few passerby's stared at her.

"Did you see it?" her mother asked, leaning out the window.

"I think so," Tracey whispered, mostly to herself as she stared ahead. Her face was blank but her mind was filled with a zillion emotions.

The glimpse almost felt like magic, as if a shock had went through her...

Tracey immediately shook herself, frowned and muttered, "No such thing as magic."

"Dear god, Anne, she's gone insane," Samuel said as he took a step out of the car and looked down at his muttering daughter.

Anne got out as well, circling the car to check for any scratches (a habit of hers) before standing beside her husband and Tracey.

"Which way was it?" Anne asked.

"That way," Tracey replied, pointing in the direction from which they came, and then looking back down at her feet.

"Well, let's get going, August doesn't last forever," Samuel stated, grabbing his wife and daughter's hands and walking toward their mysterious destination.

Tracey felt sick, quite sick. She felt that as if she could throw up onto the pavement, despite her being dragged along. She simply was _not_ going to be proven wrong. Especially with a matter such as this.

And yet she saw the pub again, as clear as day, right before her eyes and felt that same spark flow through her body as it had in the car. Her finger twitched, causing her parents to stop and look down at her as if she knew everything about it all.

"Do you see the pub?" her father inquired.

She nodded silently.

"The Leaky Cauldron?" her mother asked.

She nodded again.

"Where?" they queried in unison.

Tracey pointed straight ahead and Samuel cleared his throat.

"There's nothing there," he stated.

"Oh, please don't say that," Tracey said, pulling away from him and placing her face in her hands. She knew it was childish but she was always right, and this was not going to be any different.

"Show us in, Tracey," Anne said with a final tone.

Tracey nodded and took the lead, walking straight toward the pub and opening the door for her parents.

The gasps from them didn't help one bit.

"Oh my goodness."

"Did you see that?"

"Unbelievable."

"Oh, be quiet," Tracey pouted, nudging her parents in as politely as she could and slamming the door behind her.

The room, smelling strongly of whiskey and cigarettes and something else she didn't want to name, went silent for a moment before the original bustle returned.

Tracey felt her knees quiver as she looked over the room. Women wearing odd hats, men in cloaks, candles floating, forks moving on their own.

"No." she whispered, hand moving to her gaping mouth and eyes wide.

Her parents were gaping as well, looking like silly fishes (out of water, of course) as they stared at a dish rag cleaning a hovering dish on its own.

"Muggles, I presume," an old voice came from nearby and Tracey jumped a foot in the air before glaring up at the man that had scared her.

"Muggles?" she asked after composing herself.

"Yes," her mother interrupted, fixing her coat, and holding out her hand. "I am Anne Davis, that is my husband Samuel and our daughter Tracey."

He shook it limply, grabbed her father's hand, and then held it out to Tracey who grimaced.

A grunt from her father made her sigh and accept the offered hand.

"Cute lil' thing. I suppose you're here for Hogwarts supplies?" he inquired, smiling and showing yellow, crooked teeth.

"Yes, but I do not know exactly where-" her mother began, looking over the pub, but was interrupted by the old man.

"Not here, this where you'll find the entrance to Diagon Alley," he said, still grinning.

"Diagon Alley?" Tracey repeated, frowning.

"Yes, then, could you show us where this is?" Samuel inquired, smiling.

"Follow me," the old man said as he lead them to the back of the pub to a tall and lean wooden door.

Tracey opened it to find an empty area, with nothing but a brick wall, trash can, and a few wooden crates here and there.

"I should have placed a couple hundred pounds on my realistic side of the argument. I could do with a big screen television in my room," Tracey said, smirking up at her parents. She continued talking, despite the looks her dad was giving her. "Obviously it was some kind of magnet making those candles do that. You guys should know better than that."

"Televis-what?" the old man asked, blinking slowly, before shaking his head, pulling out a long stick, and tapping the bricks on the wall with it.

Tracey's grin faded as her mother smiled in amazement. She looked back at the wall to find that it was no longer there. An entrance stood in its place, leading to what looked like a small market place, but somewhat weirder. She saw people in funny clothes walking and shopping as if in their own kind of little odd mall. Signs hung from doorways, with funny names and even funnier things lying on the outside.

"You have got to be kidding me," she said, wide eyes glancing from here to there, unaware that her dad had pushed her through the entrance and was leading her past these shops, unaware that the old man was talking about money exchange and such.

All that was on her mind was the fact that she was wrong, and that it was official. She was a freak.

"Next you're going to tell me there are such things as unicorns and ghosts," Tracey muttered, glaring up at her parents.

"Where do you think the muggles got the idea from, eh?" the old man laughed.

"Hmmph," she pouted.

Tracey was quite aware of how immature she was acting, and how bad of an impression she was making with this new... ehm, species of people she was meeting. But when Tracey Davis is shocked or surprised, or worse, proven wrong, she could become quite the child. And this day was certainly no different.

"Tracey," her mother whispered in her ear as they passed by a bunch of caged owls, "please, please, be on your best behavior. We've never met these people before and we want them to like us. Right?"

"I suppose," Tracey muttered to herself.

"You will be good. I know you're mature. So act it."

"Yes, mum," Tracey sighed, as she put on a wide, fake smile and grabbed her hand.

"Real smiles are so much better," Samuel chuckled, and immediately received a deadly glare from his daughter.

"Okay, we're here," the old man said.

They stopped at the steps of a huge building, and the old man pointed toward the doors, saying, "Just enter, go to the last desk on the right near the big double doors, an' you'll be able to make your exchange there. And, by the way, I'm Tom. Have fun."

Just as casually as he had introduced himself and said goodbye, he disappeared into the crowd. Samuel cleared in his throat and directed the two girls into the building, where they found themselves faced with a pair of silver doors and an inscription that sent chills down Tracey's spine.

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

"Bloody hell," Samuel muttered, hand hovering over the handle as he stared at the poem.

"Can we just enter?" Tracey sighed, nodding to a pair of weird looking creatures who bowed them through the doors.

The three entered, as Tracey glanced back at the creatures in surprise, into a great hall, with the same creatures at every desk. Weighing, stamping and doing bank types of things.

"Goblins," her mother whispered in her ear in reply to the curious look on her face, before going at a faster pace to the end of the vast marble hall.

"Somebody pinch me," Tracey murmured, tossing back a curly strand of black hair over her shoulder as she caught the eye of a slightly taller blonde, who was obviously about her age.

He smirked rather sardonically at her before turning away and talking to a beautiful and tall blonde woman, presumably his mother. Tracey watched them converse silently for a moment, then faced forward again, only to run into her father's side.

"Oomph," she said as she almost fell to the floor. But her chuckling father grabbed her hand at the last second and helped her to her feet, thankfully before anyone could see.

"How much do you think she'll need, Samuel?" Anne asked, as she stood at the counter before a grumpy looking goblin.

"First year?" the goblin inquired, looking down at Tracey over small spectacles.

"Yes," Samuel replied, patting his daughter on the head.

"Then you'll need at least 10 galleons. To get her by-and-by through her year at Hogwarts," the goblin explained.

Her parents nodded in unison at the reasonable amount, and while the goblin made the long exchange, Tracey began to wander around.

The hall was gigantic and beautiful, the white marble was very perfect for all the gold and jewels that seemed to be laying about. Tracey thought that if someone could live somewhere luxurious and worth bragging about, this would be it.

Tracey continued to walk around and found herself pondering on what was hidden behind another pair of double doors silently, when she abruptly heard a cough from behind. Due to her short acquaintance with this new world, she was immediately frightened, and she whipped around and jumped a foot in the air all at once, only to be greeted with gray eyes and a face that was possibly too taken care of.

"Hello?" she said, though it came out as more of a question than a greeting.

"Hello," he replied in a drawl that proved, more than his clothes and hair did, that he was unbelievably spoiled.

"Do I know you...?" she asked, eyes shifting uncomfortably. He was rather close, not too close, but at a proximity that wasn't very normal.

"You should," he said, and as soon as those words left his mouth, Tracey knew he was not going to be her best friend.

"Well, I don't. Are you going to, ehm, Hoggywats?" Tracey asked, feeling quite stupid as she attempted to pronounce the school's name.

He gave her a look that read quite clearly that he thought she was an idiot.

"You mean Hogwarts? Yes, I am going there as a first year. My name is Draco Malfoy," Draco stated, and held out his hand.

"Um, me too. I am Tracey Davis," she retorted, shaking said hand before dropping it and taking a step back.

"Interesting... well, I'll see you there, or on the train. Goodbye," he said, and was suddenly gone, not even giving her a chance to reply...

"Odd people, I swear..." Tracey muttered as she went to find her parents, perhaps the only near normal beings in the alley.

After spotting her parents, who looked a bit too fascinated by everything, making it clear that they were the only muggles (a word she had no choice but to get used to saying) there, they began their expedition through the magic shops. First, was a place called Madam Malkin's, a robe tailor of sorts, where Tracey was to be fitted for her uniform.

"Oh, great," Tracey moaned as she was pushed into a dressing room as a boy with messy black hair and glasses left the shop.

"Oh, you're a small one. Let's see, we'll have to trim these down quite a bit," the old, plump and purple lady muttered as she bustled about, sticking pins here and there,

"Oh, isn't this just adorable," Tracey heard a sigh come from the other side of the shop, obviously her mother was getting maternal again. "Her first uniform, and a cloak! Wow, Tracey, did you see this? A cloak!"

"Calm down, Mum," Tracey sighed, pouting and looking down at her shoes, which were covered by loads of material. She sighed heavily and looked around the shop, as she mumbled, "Can I get a different color, if they let me wear something besides the uniform around the school?"

"I suppose if your parents are willing to pay the extra money for it. Other colors are more expensive than the black, due to the lack of need. We get a lot more students than regular witches and wizards," Madam Malkin explained, with a pin in her mouth and glasses on the bridge of her nose.

"Mum?" Tracey called with a hopeful expression.

"I see you like the cloaks then," Anne replied, smiling shrewdly. "I suppose we can buy another two cloaks for you. What colors?"

"Dark green and dark red, please," Tracey said quickly, the last word almost a whisper.

"Well, okay then. I'll make sure to get smaller sizes this time, or else we'll be here all night fitting you," Madam Malkin laughed, sewing the hem of Tracey's robes in a graceful and fluid motion.

"I'm quite parched. After this how about a cup of tea at the pub? Then we can continue our shopping," Samuel suggested, fiddling with the materials in the "dress robe" section.

"Sounds brilliant," Tracey said, head held high as she stood perched on her little stool. "I've been craving some green tea with a lump of brown sugar."

"You know it's best to drink that kind of tea without anything added?" Anne chuckled.

"But that's what makes Tracey Davis, Tracey Davis," Samuel retorted, and winked at his daughter good-naturedly.

--------------------------------------

"Green tea with just one lump of brown sugar, please," Tracey requested, folding her napkin once, twice, continually.

"And for you?" the toothless waitress asked, turning to her mother and father.

"Just two regular black teas," Samuel said.

The waitress nodded and drifted toward the bar, almost as if she was hovering over the ground. But, anything was possible _here_.

"Still don't believe in magic?" Samuel whispered, eyes glittering with delight and fascination.

"I'm lacking in anymore doubts," Tracey mumbled, round almond-shaped eyes flitting about, taking in everything, yet not taking anything in at all. It was too much.

Tracey heard the creak of the door and immediately turned to watch as a girl entered in a summer dress with wavy dirty blonde hair that fell to her waist, and a tall narrow-faced woman with wide green eyes that matched (what Tracey assumed was) her daughter's. But the woman's hair was light brown with small threads of gold weaving in and out of her loose curls, and her skin was tan and almost amber. The young girl was a bit pale with a few small freckles on her nose and a mole on her left cheek.

The two were quite fascinating. The woman held her head high and wore a mud-stained cloak, leather boots that made a dull "clunking" sound, and a knife in her belt, that Tracey only noticed when it caught the light of a nearby candle. The little girl, on the other hand, looked the picture of innocence. Her long hair was tied back in a tight braid, with a black bow holding it together at the end, and she wore a yellow and black small dress with simple black shoes.

The young girl looked over at Tracey and grinned brightly, clasping her mother's hand and trying to keep up with the woman's long strides.

"She looks about your age, Tracey," Anne observed, following her daughter's stares, "perhaps she's starting at Hogwarts this year, also. Why don't you ask her?"

"I think the girl's going to ask instead," Samuel chuckled as the small girl headed over, still grinning.

"Hello, there! I'm Astrea Moon." she exclaimed, holding her hand out as Tracey nervously shook it.

"Hi," Tracey mumbled. "I'm Tracey Davis."

"Are you starting this year?" the girl queried, grabbing a nearby chair and plopping down on it.

"Yes, I'm uhh, muggle-born."

"Wow, fascinating! My mum's a witch, I think my dad is, too. Never met him though. Are these your parents?" Astrea said, her mouth moving a mile a minute. It somehow comforted Tracey and she felt herself loosening up.

"Yes, this is my dad, Samuel, and my mum, Anne," Tracey replied.

"Nice to meet you two!" Astrea exclaimed.

"Same here," Samuel said, as he stood and gathered his coat. "Me and your mum are going to look at some stores, we'll meet you at Ollivander's."

"Okay," Tracey smiled, and waved to her parents as they left. She turned to Astrea and immediately started asking questions. "So what's magic like? Is this all a hoax? You can tell me."

"Magic is everywhere, basically. And what do you mean? A hoax. Tracey Davis, you're never going to get anywhere with that kind of motivation."

"It's just, I was never the type to follow all that unicorn and dragon rubbish."

"You know, those do exist. Watch what you say, you might be near one of those humanitary-thingies, the witches and wizards that protect the magical creatures."

"Wow. So this is like another dimension or something."

"Close. But no, we're still apart of your world, just hidden. And for good reasons, too."

"What reasons?"

"Well, I don't really know... But they're good!"

Tracey laughed, shaking her head as Astrea joined in with her own small giggles.

"I like you. We should go on the train together, keep each other company. Besides, I hear this one house is rather mean to first years," Astrea said, her voice dropping down to a mumble.

"What's a house?"

"It's like a family of sorts. There are four and you get sorted into one that you stay with for seven years. You have house points and quidditch..."

"Quidditch?"

"I'll explain later. It's a bit complicated."

"Oh. Well what that house's name?"

"I don't really know. All I know is that my mum thinks I'll be sorted into either Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. My mum was in Ravenclaw, my dad was in Gryffindor."

"Wow, I hope we're in the same house," Tracey said nervously.

"I think we will, don't worry."

"Astrea," the tall woman returned from her conversation with the bartender and came over to their table.

"Mum, this is Tracey. She's a first year, too," Astrea explained.

A smile crept on the thick but stern lips of Astrea's mother as she shook Tracey's hand. "I'm Sapphira Moon, it's nice to meet you Tracey. I hope we see you at the platform. Come along, Astrea."

The two made their way out, Astrea waving goodbye before they were enveloped by the bright light of the sun outside the pub.

Tracey stood, took one last sip of her tea and headed back to Diagon Alley, which was fortunately left open by someone who had just passed through. She stepped on the cobble stone street and headed through the crowds, watching the signs over the doorways for Ollivanders. When she found the shop, she made her way through dozens of people and pushed opened the door, wincing as it creaked loudly. A faint bell rung in the back of the shop and Tracey sneezed as the dust from all around drifted toward her.

Her parents weren't here. Perhaps they had made a stop somewhere. Tracey took a seat on an old armchair and looked at all the boxes everywhere, fingers tapping restlessly at her side.

"Hello Miss Davis. Looking for a wand I presume?" a dark and rusty voice drifted from the back.

Tracey turned in her seat, "How did you-?"

"Your parents were just in. First year, eh?"

"Yes, and I uhh n-need a wand," Tracey stammered, the hairs on the back of her neck standing as the old man came into view. His dark gray eyes penetrated her and her mind, and it scared her half to death.

"I believe we already came to that understanding," Ollivander smirked, with a raspy chuckle under his breath. "Let's get started, shall we?"

He began to dig through boxes, calling over his shoulder, "What is your wand hand?"

"I use my left I suppose," Tracey mumbled.

"That shall do," Ollivander replied, pulling out a couple of long white boxes and opening one, before handing a long narrow wand to Tracey. "Ebony and dragon heartstrings, six and a half inches. Quite good for charms."

Tracey grasped the wand and gave it a feeble wave, but it was immediately snatched from her thin pale fingers and was no sooner replaced by another one.

"Willow and unicorn hair, fourteen inches. Flexible," Ollivander continued, watching the feeble wave before snatching it back.

After a few pathetic attemptive waving of some wands, Tracey began to feel doubtful. As Ollivander became increasingly more excited.

"Another tough one today? I'll be busy all week if this keeps happening," Ollivander laughed, pulling out a long wooden box with funny carvings on the sides. He set this one down more carefully and took out the wand, carefully slipping it into Tracey's hands. "Yew, unicorn hair and phoenix feather, seven inches. Quite an interesting combination, one of my only wands with a combined core."

Tracey felt a heat ignite in her fingers, her arm, her body as she grasped the handle. This felt right. So right. Sparks of maroon and green glittered from the end of the wand and Ollivander smiled in delight.

"About time we found an owner for that one," he sighed as he headed up to the counter and rung it up.

Tracey followed him, still gripping her wand tightly before she had to hand it over to him so he could wrap it up for her.

"That's quite a wand Miss Davis," he said as she was exiting the store, "take good care of it and be cautious. Always."

Tracey nodded to herself and exited the shop, walking fast and not stopping until she was far enough away. She breathed deeply, his words etched on her brain boldly. She leaned her head against the brick wall she stood along, hidden in the shadows and behind the throngs of people.

This was a fascinating new world, so full of wonder and astounding experiences. And Tracey had never been more afraid in her life.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw her parents, and a smile came to her face when she saw the cage with them. Inside was a cat. Tracey had always wanted a cat.

_Author's Note: You know what sounds better than green tea? Some reviews. I know, they feel like a hassle to leave, but they really keep this story going… and hopefully you like it enough to keep it going. _


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note: I'm so proud of myself! Two chapters in one day on a story I was suffering major writer's block on. But thanks to one review and a new chapter from Slytherin Rising, I think I was on a roll .I hate that this roll had to come after the school year started. So much time during the summer, and hardly any now. But I guess that's how plot bunnies scheme to work. One review inspired another chapter, imagine what a bunch in an hour could do. Just saying… I'm really excited about this story, and the way it's going, I think I might be able to have a series on my hands, along with AP classes and social events. Joy. But, the end of this chapter, the staff meeting, that's from the unrevised original Serpents and Muggle-borns, because I'm still just that lazy._

_Disclaimer: Only one or two characters are mine. Yay me!_

Chapter Four 

"We're leaving soon. Are you packed, m'dear?" Anne called up the stairs, purse slung over her shoulder and coat half on her body.

"Just about! Still have to cage the cat!" Tracey shouted back. This was followed by an indignant meow and a "thump."

After Tracey managed to get the cat into it's small jail, she headed down the stairs, long hair tied back in a loose bun, wavy tendrils flapping about her face as she went down the stairs with luggage and a cage in hand. Inside the cage an angry looking raven-haired cat, with a short but sleek coat of fur and magical violet eyes, glared at everyone and everything, and as it was peering angrily at the neighbor's gnome, the cage was shoved into the car with Tracey.

"Have you found a name for your feline counterpart yet?" Samuel inquired as he loaded the trunk of the car and closed it, before getting into the drivers seat and starting the ignition.

"He's my nameless cat. Oh, cat without a name. I suppose maybe Cat will do, it's simple, and everyone calls him that anyhow," Tracey reasoned, unlocking the cage and taking Cat out, who purred in relief.

"Don't be too happy, you're going right back in when we reach the platform," Tracey whispered to him, and he replied with a deep "mrow."

"I'm so excited for you, Tracey," Anne exclaimed, looking over her shoulder at Tracey with a large smile as they made their way into the city of London.

"I'm excited, too. And so is Cat. Aren't you, Cat?" Tracey asked, snuggling her face in his fur and stroking his ear.

"She sure can't get enough of that cat," Samuel observed, as he turned the car onto another road.

"I love him to death," Tracey sighed, "because he's grumpy like me."

"I can agree with that," Anne chuckled.

It wasn't long until the reached the platform, and poor Cat was put back into his cage, though he did put up a fight. Samuel strapped the cage to the top of Tracey's luggage, which was strapped to a trolley. Tracey took the handle of the trolley and began to pull it through the platform, followed by her inquisitive parents.

"Platform 9 and 3/4," Samuel repeated, looking at his daughter's ticket.

"Well, it seems odd enough for a wizard train," Anne whispered in reply.

Tracey shook her head, walking faster as she saw Platform 10 and Platform 9.

"Well, it's between these two platforms, I think. But I don't see anything," Tracey said, scratching her head as if it would help her figure out this new dilemma.

"You need to get on Platform 9 and 3/4?" a voice asked from behind her, and Tracey turned quickly, almost knocking heads with the shorter girl behind her.

"Yes," Tracey muttered, looking all around, but not at the girl. Her cheeks had taken on a light pink tint.

"Same here. I'm Daphne Greengrass," the girl announced, holding out her hand regally. She was outgoing like Astrea, Tracey's first magical friend, but more aristocratic, like that Malfoy boy.

"I'm Tracey Davis, I'm a muggle-born and I'm not entirely sure about how to get on," Tracey replied, playing with the hem of her sweater.

The taller girl, whom Tracey presumed to be her sister due to their incredible likeness, though she was obviously older, sneered at Tracey before walking away.

"That's not something you should announce, darling," Daphne said, looking at Tracey with pitying gray eyes.

"It's not?" Tracey asked, feeling all the more stupid and a bit hurt by Daphne's sister's reaction.

"Muggle-borns are seen as ignorant and a tad pesty. But you seem just darling, so I think you might be a bit of an exception," Daphne replied, smiling up at Tracey in an almost condescending way.

"Umm, thanks, I guess," Tracey retorted, frowning.

"Don't mention it," Daphne waved it off and winked. She ran a hand through her light auburn brown hair and asked, "You want me to help you get on? It's really simple actually."

"Sounds good," Tracey said, looking for her parents, then waving when she spotted them. They waved back from a family they were talking to, smiling.

"I'm going, mum! Dad!" Tracey called, and they headed over, both hugging her tightly.

It was a terribly sad parting, but it was for the best. Tracey sighed to herself, then looked at Daphne with a tiny smile.

"Brilliant," Daphne exclaimed, and she grabbed Tracey's hand. "We're going through a wall now. Hold onto my hand and walk _fast!_"

Tracey swallowed loudly, grabbed her luggage, and allowed this new girl to pull her through the barrier, as she waited for the impact of her face and brick. And yet, it didn't come. Tracey heart raced in shock, her fingers felt numb and she couldn't get her eyes to open.

"Ah! I'm finally going to get on the train this year! It gets old watching your big sister get on for two years, but now it's my turn," Daphne said in Tracey's ear.

"Yeah. Right," Tracey breathed, and finally opened her eyes.

Her breath caught in her throat again as she saw the majesty of the large maroon train before her. As it gleamed in the sunlight she felt her pulse quicken and her blood flow. This was really happening. It was no dream, or nightmare. This was all so real.

"Wow," was all Tracey could say, and Daphne laughed.

"Yeah, it gets old after the first year though," she said, tossing back her stick straight shoulder-length hair.

"It's gorgeous," Tracey sighed.

"And it's going to leave!" Daphne exclaimed. "Look at the time! Grab your things, Tracey!"

Tracey, taken aback by the sudden rush, grabbed her trolley and pulled it toward the open door of the train, but unfortunately had neither the strength, nor the awareness to pull it up. Daphne looked down from her place on the train steps at Tracey, looking scared and hopeless.

"Pull Tracey!" she cried dramatically.

"It won't go!" One of the wheels had gotten stuck.

"Hey!" a voice called from behind Tracey, she turned and then looked up into the face of a rather attractive young boy. He smirked and asked, "Need some help there?"

"Yes, uhh please," Tracey mumbled, eyes lowering to the ground.

"Fantastic! I get to use some magic!" he exclaimed, then took out his wand, waved it about and said, "_Wingardium Leviosa!_"

Tracey fell back as her things levitated in the air, drifted through the doorway and collapsed right by a stunned Daphne.

"I thought magic couldn't be used outside of school," she said, gaping at him.

"I'm just a rebel, I suppose. Let's get you in," he said and pulled Tracey onto the train, slamming the door just as the train sounded and began to move.

"Thank you, so much! What's your name?" Tracey whispered, panting from the excitement.

The boy stood, grabbed a suitcase which she presumed to be his, and helped the two girls up.

"I'm Erik Bedeau, and please, don't thank me. It's bad for my reputation," Erik grinned haughtily.

"What reputation?" Daphne questioned abruptly. "My sister, Celie, tells me you're the bookworm of Slytherin."

"Slytherin?" Tracey asked, hoping to change the subject as Erik frowned.

"It's my house," Erik replied, "and the best there is, too."

"My sister's in it, and I'm hoping to get in, too. You'd be a pretty decent Slytherin, Tracey," Daphne observed, tightening the straps on her luggage as Erik did the same to Tracey's.

"So the houses are Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. What's the fourth one?" Tracey asked, eyebrows furrowed.

"Hufflepuff. Doesn't even deserve to be a house, if you ask me," Erik explained.

"Why?" Tracey queried.

"Full of questions, isn't she?" Erik said to Daphne, who nodded with a laugh. He turned to Tracey and winked, "Let's get a compartment first, then we can answer your many questions."

"Fine by me," Daphne said, and pulled her luggage down the hall, leaving the other two behind. She looked through each of the windows until she saw an empty compartment, then shouted, "Over here, you two!"

Tracey and Erik followed, pulling their trunks along. After putting them away in the small cabin, they collapsed on the seats.

"Luggage is exhausting," Tracey muttered, pulling the door shut with a slam.

"You can say that again," Erik laughed, then sat up, ruffling his short brown hair so that it stuck up in all directions, light blue eyes glittering.

"Houses," he said. "Let's explain."

"So, Hufflepuff," Daphne sighed, shaking her head, "is a house for basically the dunderheads. The people whose only point in life is to basically reproduce and make more dunderheads."

"Truer words were never spoken," Erik added.

"I'll probably be in Hufflepuff then," Tracey muttered darkly, releasing her black hair from it's bun.

"No, you're smart. I bet you'll either be in Slytherin or Ravenclaw," Erik replied, giving her a pat on the back.

She smiled, then got up to let Cat out of his cage, he did look rather angry after all. The feline slinked out of the cage, before stretching and letting out a wide yawn.

"Beautiful cat, I have a cat, too," Daphne said, patting Cat on the head. "What's the name?"

"His name is Cat," Tracey answered, with a maternal and adoring smile.

"Ironically original," Erik commented, as he began to pet Cat, too, who purred at the attention.

"My cat's name is Charlie, he's with my sister though, she's probably better at controlling him than I am. I just spoil the poor cat," Daphne said, grinning. She ran a hand over Cat's smooth coat, smiling as the small kitten purred.

Immediately, their discussion was interrupted by a knock on the compartment door diverting their attention, and Tracey smiled when she saw it was Astrea, her hair up in a high ponytail and already wearing the school uniform, which looked a tad too big for her. Erik, now closest to the door, pulled it open and greeted Astrea with an interested smirk.

"Tracey!" Astrea exclaimed, pulling in her luggage and plopping down between Tracey and Erik. "I see you've made some new friends already."

"Yes," Tracey grinned, "that's Erik Bedeau and she's Daphne Greengrass. Guys, this is Astrea Moon."

"Moon?"

"Greengrass?"

Astrea and Daphne looked at each other suspiciously, eyes narrowed and eyebrows lifted.The room was silent, save for Cat's "meowing" due to the sudden lack of attention.

"What's the problem?" Tracey asked.

"Moon's mum arrested my dad," Daphne hissed.

"My mum caught Greengrass' dad bribing the ministry to let go of some Death Eaters," Astrea growled.

"What a splendid coincidence," Erik remarked sarcastically. "Why don't we all get back to what we were talking about?"

"I'm not staying if she's in here," Astrea said defiantly.

"Kick _her_ out first," Daphne demanded.

"Astrea, Daphne," Tracey sighed, "this is all about your mums and dads, which should have nothing to do with you two. So what if her mum arrested your dad or whatever. We're all new, except Erik, and we all need friends, let's just forget about the past and look to the future."

"Very deep, Tracey," said Erik with a smile.

"Thanks," Tracey replied shyly.

"I suppose I can forget," Astrea mumbled, then held her hand out to an indignant Daphne. "Friends?"

"Sure," Daphne muttered and awkwardly took Astrea's hand before quickly letting it go.

"Lovely," Erik grinned, putting an arm around Astrea, who shrunk away, giving him a glare.

"So what house do you want to be in Astrea?" Erik inquired, watching her as she released her hair from the ponytail and shook it out.

"Ravenclaw or Gryffindor, like my mum and dad," she said, and Daphne laughed.

"We're all going to be in Slytherin, of course," Daphne spoke in a condescending tone as Astrea sneered at her.

"Well, I'm not," Astrea replied.

"How do you get sorted into the houses?" Tracey queried.

"They put a hat on you and it chooses. You _don't_ get to choose," Erik said, looking pointedly at Astrea and Daphne.

"Wow, more surprises in store. Fantastic," Tracey moaned sardonically. "So, uhh, how are the houses different?"

"Slytherin's for the ambitious and cunning. Ravenclaw is for the smart people. Gryffindor is for the rash and supposedly brave. And Hufflepuff is for the dunderheads. It's pretty simple," Erik explained, ignoring Astrea's indignant gasp.

"There's only a few problems with being a Slytherin though, from what my sister tells me," Daphne said, grabbing Cat and pulling him onto her lap.

"And what are they?" Tracey asked, dark blue eyes wide and curious, a constant since entering this new world.

"One," Erik began, "is that the common room is in the dungeons. It can be rather cold, and the older years always take the seats right by the hearth. I suppose it's better to have the chance to go up in flames than freeze to death."

"It's that bad?" Daphne cried, mouth gaping.

"I doubt it, Greengrass," Astrea replied, and Daphne closed her mouth indignantly.

"Two," Erik went on, unfazed by the interruption, "The pressure to be the best house, because we are. We always _have_ to win at Quidditch and get the House Cup, which goes to the house with the most points. Those points are earned by 'good' behavior and knowing all the answers. We won last year, of course."

"Wow, Slytherin's really good," Tracey commented in interest.

"Third," Erik's voice then lowered, "is that we have the worse Head of House, but he's the best, as well. No one really likes him, sure he's feared and occasionally respected, but not liked. He's the Potions teacher, and I barely passed his class last year, it's so hard. But luckily, he favors us Slytherins, he's basically mostly nasty to the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. His name is Professor Snape. And, I have to say, Tracey," he then turned to her, "there's something about you that just reminds me of him."

"A nasty piece of work like that? Tracey's may seem a bit dark, even when she tries to be perky and sweet, but she's not like him. I've heard horror stories about him, and that's not Tracey," Daphne said, as Tracey frowned.

"Well, that's a bit odd. I'll just have to see for myself," she retorted, settling back into her seat, her mind growing more and more preoccupied as the others began to discuss the rest of the staff.

-----------------------------------------------

Silence. Absolute silence. Those who were anxious would glance at each other, some tapping their quills on the table before them, and a few just remained silent. Finally, a witch with a strict appearance, her dark hair pulled up in a tight bun and a frown etched on her features, stood up and cleared her throat.

The staff members looked up in surprise, taken aback by the sudden and abrupt noise. Yet only one teacher remained impassive as he stared forward, dark eyes locked on a crack in the aging stone walls.

"What is Albus doing?" squeaked a small Professor Flitwick before the woman had a chance to speak.

"Setting up the final test. His own," Minerva McGonagall answered briskly.

"Ah," Professor Flitwick nodded, followed by some of the others.

"Do you suppose the stone will be safe?" Professor Sprout, a squat witch with dirty fingernails and untidy gray hair, asked.

"Of course," the man, who had been listening intently, yet without having said a word, spoke up. He turned his cold black eyes to the teachers, all of whom looked surprised that he was even alive. "I highly doubt that three first years could just stroll right over and retrieve the stone."

"Severus," Minerva warned, narrowing her eyes in his direction.

"Spare me, Minerva," Severus Snape retorted with a drawl as Minerva glared.

"Is it true?" Professor Flitwick abruptly queried, diverting Minerva's attention away from Severus Snape.

"Is what true?"

"That Harry Potter is attending Hogwarts this year?"

Severus Snape looked over at Minerva, silently begging whatever powerful diety was in charge of his fate that this was just a sick and cruel joke. The worst was confirmed.

"Yes, with much trouble though," McGonagall answered.

"I suppose he had too much trouble deciding between all the schools he got accepted to," Severus muttered sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

Minerva shot another glare at the Potions Master before continuing the discussion at hand with the rest of the professors.

Half an hour later, Severus Snape was found sulking back to his quarters, purged by memories of his school days. Another Potter, aiming to make his life a living hell and to act like an arrogant and complete snob. The only thing that possibly stopped James from going too overboard (although Severus doubted that was even possible, seeing as the man was as cruel as anyone else he had ever met) was fame, and now his son had received that very honor.

Life was hell.

Severus reached a blank stone wall, with four cracks lining a brick to his right, and five on the one to his left. He took out his wand and tapped a certain pattern of stones, a similar procedure that was used on the entrance to Diagon Alley, after which he spoke the password in a hushed tone.

_"Errare humanum est."_

The wall opened up to reveal a dark and gloomy passage, which Severus entered, whispering a quick _"Lumos"_ as he made his way through, the white glow of his wand leaving him not completely blinded by darkness. The entrance behind him sealed itself shut.

Severus Snape was not acting like some angst-ridden teenager, no, he was definitely not one to suffer from such depressing moods. But having to deal with a bunch of moronic and annoying students was bad enough, now he'd have another arrogant Potter on his hands. His personal date diety obviously thought this was a decent payback for having joined the Death Eaters... but wasn't this a bit _too_ harsh?

Severus shook his head, a scowl plastered characteristically on his sallow features. He didn't even know what Harry Potter would pay for... but the boy would definitely pay. He would get his revenge before the brat even had a chance to gain an even bigger ego. That was his job, wasn't it?

_Author's Note: Please, please review. Geez, this story just gets my heart all excited. So many plans for the future if I manage to even make it tto their second year. Wish me luck. And don't make me feel like I'm doing all this writing for myself, review!_


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's Note: Oh, wow. I've never come out with this many chapters before in so short of time, it's really exciting. So I changed the name of the story to Serpents and Mudbloods, because it's been something I've been planning to do, and it matches the serious tone I'm trying to give this story. I also edited the first two chapters to change one little thing. Tracey's eye color. I had forgotten that they were black in the original and almost screwed up my entire story. Eye color plays a big part in this story of mine, oh yes indeed. Oh geez, anyone else as excited about the 5th movie as me! Sorry, too much internet..._

Chapter Five 

"Firs' years! Firs' years!"

Tracey snorted, woken by the shouts and many footsteps as the passengers were unloaded from the train. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, watching Astrea and Daphne gather their things, while poor Erik tried to coax Cat into the cage. Astrea looked over at Tracey and smiled, saying, "Good evening. We're at Hogwarts now."

Tracey yawned and stretched, moving toward the window, and managed catch herself in mid-yawn, taken aback by the unbelievable sight before her. A brilliant castle, with torrets and towers and lights glowing from various windows, windows that littered the stone majesty.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Astrea said, taking a seat beside the window, as Tracey continued to gape. "We're staying there, learning there, _living _there."

"Well everyone, we don't have to take our luggage we just have to take small necessaries. Which reminds me, uhh, Tracey you better get your uniform on," Erik said, smirking down at her gray sweater and jeans.

Tracey gasped and began ruffling through her luggage, grabbing the necessary articles of clothing while Astrea, Daphne, and Erik left her alone in the compartment to change. She quickly dressed, nearly falling while attempting to get her skirt on as fast as possible, feeling rushed and panicked. When she was finished, she opened the door and allowed the others to grab what they needed before they all headed out into the cold and clear night.

As they stepped off the train Erik started in another direction, and the girls looked at him helplessly, he laughed and pointed in the direction all the first years seemed to be going and said, "Go with the big tall man, you get to go on the boats."

"Boats?" Astrea asked in shock. She looked toward the other girls and said, "What if we fall in the water? It's probably freezing cold."

"Then we'll just have to fish you out, then, won't we?" Tracey laughed in amusement.

Astrea only grimaced while Daphne snickered quietly.

"Firs' Years!" the gruff voice called again, and the girls followed a group of first years toward a man who just _had_ to be a giant. He was very large and incredibly tall, with a face almost completely hidden behind a thick bristly beard. But his black beady eyes held a cheery brightness, and Tracey couldn't help but smile at him politely, as the students clamored together, all curious about what was going to happen to them.

"They're having that oaf take us to the school?" a familiar drawl sounded from behind her, and she turned to see Malfoy, who was nudging his friends and smirking.

"Obviously he knows what he's doing, otherwise they wouldn't have him show us where to go," Tracey hissed under her breath, though Malfoy didn't hear her, a girl with bushy hair gave her a friendly knowing smile, and Tracey grinned in return.

"I'm Hermione Granger," she whispered, holding her hand out to Tracey.

"Tracey Davis. Nice to meet you, Hermione," Tracey replied quietly, shaking the offered hand.

"I hope not everyone is like him," she said, jerking her head towards Malfoy who was snickering with his friends.

"Not completely, from what I've seen. Though they're all a bit sarcastic. I guess that's the way of this odd, odd world."

"New, too? Are you a muggle-born?" Hermione asked.

"C'mon, follow me- anymore firs' years? Mind yer step now! Firs' years follow me!" the man called as he lead them down a narrow path through the darkness. Tracey couldn't tell if it was just really dark or if they were surrounded by thick masses of trees.

"Yeah," Tracey whispered. "You are, too?"

"Yes. Couldn't quite believe it, but my parents were really proud."

"Mine, too. It just all seemed a bit phony for me."

"Really? I don't know, but something in my bones told me this was the real thing."

"Wow," Tracey breathed, feeling a bit uncomfortable. Well, she knew now she was the only nonbeliever, even though it was all right in front of her, and this realization made her feel awkward.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec, just around this bend here!" the giant shouted.

As promised, the first years were struck by an amazing view of the castle, it certainly didn't measure up to looking out the window of her compartment. The brilliant lights from the windows reflected onto the smooth black surface of a lake, and Tracey watched the the castle ripple slightly in the water. At the shore there were a fleet of little boats, floating on the water innocently.

Tracey heard Astrea gulp from beside her.

"I've had a few bad experiences with water and boats," Astrea hissed in Tracey's ear, frantically tugging at her friend's sleeve.

"It's okay!" Tracey whispered. "They probably have some spell that can prevent falling out or something."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," Tracey replied, though she doubted her own words.

"No more'n four to a boat!" the giant shouted, and the first years immediately scrambled to get into a boat with their friends, shouting and laughing, excitement building for what laid ahead.

"Tracey!" Daphne called, waving to her from a boat nearby, beside a very nervous-looking Astrea. "We got a boat!"

Tracey pulled her cloak tighter for warmth and quickly ran over to them, feeling the cold gushes of wind nip at her bare neck. She slowly climbed into the boat and tried her best to get comfortable on the hard wooden seats.

"We're going to-" Astrea was beginning to say until a throat cleared above Tracey.

"Got room for one more?" a low and cold voice said, and Tracey looked up to see a rather tall and thin young boy with chin-length straight black hair that fell over his face.

Daphne squeaked in surprise, then composed herself enough to say, "I'm not sure. What's your name?"

The boy ignored her and climbed into the boat anyway. sitting beside Tracey, but not even glancing at her. He stared at the still dark glass that was the water, shoulders hunched and hair masking his features.

"What's your name?" Daphne asked again, hands on her hips as she peered at him in scrutiny.

"I am Theodore Nott, and I prefer if you don't speak until this boat ride is over and I can be away from you," he muttered simply, glancing at each of them with very light blue gray eyes, so piercing that one with small look she felt as if he had read everything that had traveled through her mind.

Daphne scoffed, crossing her arms, and angrily looked away, muttering something that sounded less than decent under her breath.

"Everyone in? Right then- FORWARD!" and with the giant's call, the boats all at once glided forward through the water, smoothly cutting through the black surface like blades.

The trip was silent, only the sound of the water lapping against the sides of the boats and Daphne's huffs of indignation could be heard, it was obvious that she was still angry about Theodore's straightforward and "insulting" words.

"Heads down!" the giant yelled, and all the first years ducked under the curtain of ivy that hid the large opening in the cliff.

Tracey lifted her head slowly, glancing about as Daphne and Astrea composed themselves as best as they could while Theodore sat calmly, as if he hadn't even followed the giant's instructions. They drifted through a dark tunnel until they reached a sort of underground harbor, which Tracey presumed was under the school, and everyone climbed out of their boats onto the pebbles and stones, trying to keep from falling. Tracey climbed out of the boat, stepping quickly on the gravel, she managed to slip on a pile of smooth rocks and fell back. She waited for the hard impact but it didn't come, she opened her eyes and saw light blue orbs looking down at hers. When she was set upright she stared dazedly at Theodore.

"Be careful," he said simply and walked away, nudging through the crowd to the front where the giant was talking to a nervous and round boy, whose cheeks were red from tears. He smiled when the large man presented a frog to him and he followed the man through the passageway, carrying the amphibian triumphantly.

"Can you believe him," Daphne finally said, tossing back her hair and shooting daggers at Theodore as they walked along the path at the back of the group. "The nerve."

"He's rather neat, actually," Astrea countered, receiving an angry look from Daphne. "Well, he made you shut up."

"Oh, go kiss a ghost," Daphne muttered, moving so she was beside Tracey. "So, Tracey, decide what house you want to be in?"

"Not really. I thought we don't decide though," Tracey replied, kicking a pebble and watching as it smacked against the wall of the passage.

"I think we get at least some say in it," Astrea said with a shrug.

"I just don't feel up to decision-making. I'll leave it up to whatever is sorting us," Tracey returned.

As the trio began up the flight of stone stairs, Tracey heard the giant knock on the door to the castle up ahead, and grew even more nervous. Her shaky fingers played with the hem of her sleeve, eyes wide, heart beat quick as the door slowly opened to reveal a very sour and very thin-lipped witch, with black hair that was tied back in a perfect bun and neat dark green robes. This was definitely someone Tracey would not want to get on the bad side of.

"The firs' years Professor McGonagall," the giant announced proudly, as if it was a feat to have brought them all across the lake with all their limbs still attached afterwards.

"Thank you, Hagrid," she said sharply, "I will take them from here."

Hagrid nodded to her with a smile as she pulled the door open wide, receiving "oohs" and "ahh's" from the crowd up front. Tracey, Daphne and Astrea curiously followed their peers up the rest of the steps into a magnificent and very large entrance hall. It gleamed as if brand new and the ceiling was so high that Tracey had to squint to make it out, the floors were polished and perfect (as her mom would have loved) and a lovely marble staircase lead to, what she presumed to be, the rest of the castle. They walked across through a door at the other end, which lend into a much smaller, empty chamber.

As they all crowded in Professor McGonagall took a severe stance at the front and said, "Welcome to Hogwarts. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will need to be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house (Two boys nearby slapped hands at this.), sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The sorting ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the

school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

The witch looked over some of the boys in the front, whom immediately started grooming themselves.

"I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly," she said, and briskly left the room, the door clicking shut behind her.

"I bet your mansion isn't like that," Astrea sneered at Daphne, referring to the entrance hall. The blonde looked to Tracey and explained in a mocking tone, "All through the train ride was 'I'm rich this', 'I'm rich that', and 'We have a huge house.'"

"Not true, entirely," Daphne retorted defiantly, then calmly said, flipping her hair back, "I didn't say those first two things."

"Same thing, you snob," Astrea hissed.

"Uhh, could we not get blood on the floors? I don't think the custodians or whatever would be very pleased," Tracey snapped, dark eyes penetrating and rather stern.

"Yes, yes, darling," Daphne said in exasperation, "Let's act like adults here."

"You're one to talk," Astrea muttered, pouting. She then let out a deep breath and said, "Fine, but only because it's our first night here."

"So are you guys nervous," Tracey breathed, unconsciously tying up her hair, then letting it down, then tying it up again.

"A bit," Daphne mumbled, smiling feebly. "I think Erik would find some odd way to make us feel better."

"Or worse," Astrea laughed meekly, "He can a be a bit unpredictable."

"Yeah," Tracey agreed quietly.

"Oh god, I'm nervous as hell," Astrea cried, breathing heavily. "What if I end up in some dismal house or something. I don't want my mum to be disappointed."

"Ugh. I could ruin my family name!" Daphne howled dramatically.

"Well, I guess I have loads less to worry about. Thanks guys, I feel better already," Tracey said, laughing as they glared at her.

Tracey glanced toward Hermione Granger who was whispering beneath her breath and she suddenly felt chunks begin to rise.

"In front of the school," Tracey groaned.

"The people we'll be spending the next seven years of our lives with, basically," Astrea said.

Tracey took a deep breath, staring at the door that McGonagall would soon be coming through.

"Hey, look!" Astrea exclaimed, pointing in the direction of one of the walls.

Tracey turned just as a few people nearby screamed in fright. She could only stare blankly, eyebrows lowered.

"You've got to be bloody joking. It took all of my last year to convince those girls that ghosts weren't real," she muttered, not exactly freaked out, more frustrated and annoyed.

"Honestly, Tracey, where was your imagination? I thought muggles were all about fantasizing about magicians and bunnies or something of that sort," Daphne said from the corner of her mouth, watching the pearly white ghosts drift across the room, clearly in a heated debate.

"Funny you should ask," Tracey muttered, before going quiet so as to hear what they were saying, chills finally going up and down her spine as they floated above the floor.

"-gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost-" one of the apparitions said, with a ruff and tights on, before stopping short and looking at the first years in surprise. "I say, what are you all doing here?"

He was answered by a deathly silence. Pun not intended.

"New students!" cried the monk esque ghost. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

Tracey and a few others nodded silently.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" he exclaimed heartily. "My old house, you know."

Suddenly McGonagall returned, reminding Tracey and a few others of their dreaded fate.

"Move along now," she said sharply. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

The ghosts left one by one through the opposite wall, resuming their conversation on the other side.

"Now, form a line and follow me," McGonagall commanded, and they all did just that, walking and stumbling through the entrance hall and finally past the double doors into the Great Hall.

It was spectacular, tens of thousands of candles hovered over four long tables, where students were sitting, all wearing the same robes, though each table's had a different color to the hem and such. The tables gleamed with it empty goblets and dishes of gold, and she felt all eyes on her and the rest of her year as the marched up through the middle to the front of the hall. The stopped short across from a long table facing them and the rest of the students, where the staff sat. Tracey nervously looked about, and was taken aback by the fact that there seemed to be no ceiling.

"It's bewitched to look like the sky outside," Hermione whispered in her ear. "I read about it in _Hogwarts, A History_."

"You've got to lend me it some time," Tracey replied quietly.

Tracey looked back down again as Professor McGonagall quietly set down a four-legged stool before them. On top of it she laid a filthy, old wizard's hat, with patches and frayed ends.

Tracey stared at it, her heart thumping in her ears.

Suddenly the hat twitched, and before Tracey could react, the brim opened wide like a mouth and it began to sing:

"_Oh you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you're ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!_

"It's rather grotesque," Daphne said in a hushed voice as the hall erupted in cheers, the hat animatedly bowed to each of the four tables before going still once more.

"Well, at least Erik wasn't lying," Astrea sighed in relief.

Professor McGonagall stepped forward, holding a long roll of parchment and looking over all of them shortly before saying, "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she paused. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A rather pink-faced blonde girl with pigtails nearly crashed into McGonagall as she stumbled out of line. She slowly put the hat on and Tracey watched as it fell over her eyes.

There was a moment of silence, then-

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The table on the far right cheered enthusiastically, greeting the new member of their house.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat yelled, once more, and Susan scurried to join Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left yelled and cheered, greeting Terry with just as much enthusiasm as the Hufflepuffs had.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy!"

"RAVENCLAW!" the hat shouted, and Tracey watched as Mandy hurried to her table, grinning widely.

"Oh, bother," Tracey muttered, fiddling with her sleeves again.

"Brown, Lavender!"

A few seconds, then-

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The table at the far left shouted and cheered as the girl got off the stool and hurried to join her house.

Tracey sighed, watching as "Bulstrode, Millicent" became a Slytherin and Daphne groaned in anticipation.

Tracey began to feel insecure about any powers she possessed, insecure about how she would be looked upon. She was certainly not stupid. She had seen the way Daphne's sister had looked at her, with a grimace of distaste. Was there something _wrong_ with her that she had yet to figure out? Well, besides the fact that she was a muggle-born, but why was that so bad?

Thoughts whizzed through her mind, and she began literally yanking on her own sleeve, nerves in a bundle.

"Davis, Tracey!"

Tracey squeaked in surprise, feeling a nudge at the small of her back as Daphne and Astrea pushed her forward.

She stepped hesitantly before everyone, slowly going up the small steps to the hat, her footsteps echoing throughout the hall as everyone sat silently. She felt like the hat was staring at her with its gold and blue lopsided patches, making her feel even more uncomfortable. She slowly sat down on the stool, lifting the hat above her head and quickly dropping it, everything going dark as it went over her eyes.

"Well, well, well. You must have been quite shocked during the last few months, eh? Not a believer at all until that letter came," the hat said in her ear.

_What the-? _Tracey thought in surprise, sitting stiffly in the chair.

"I can read thoughts, you know," it replied slyly. "Now, now. It seems you aren't very biased, that's a relief, but that does make things a bit more difficult for me. You are brave, very, though you don't know it, you'd make a fine Gryffindor. Great loyalty, I see, the quality of a Hufflepuff. The brains, certainly, no doubt about it. But there's something else about you... Strong ambitions, strength, do I see some cunning, too?"

_Umm... _she thought nervously, foot twitching as it hovered above the floor.

"That's right. I know just where to put you, welcome to SLYTHERIN!" the last part was shouted to the entire hall, and the second to the right table cheered loudly, applauding Tracey as she set the hat down and scuttled over to her new house, feeling quite proud of herself as she took a seat next to Erik.

"Well done, Tracey! I knew you had it in you!" said Erik, grinning at her.

Tracey smiled back, but something in the back of her mind said cruelly, _They wouldn't be cheering if they knew what you were._

Tracey shook her head, clearing her thoughts enough to applaud another first year who had been chosen to be in Slytherin.

"Well, he looks more like a Hufflepuff in brains, but I suppose he's just supporting the stereotype," Erik muttered to Tracey, shaking his head as the boy sat beside another less than intelligent, in looks, first year.

"Stereotype?" Tracey questioned, eyebrow raised.

"We're known as the evil house," Erik explained simply. When he saw how taken aback Tracey was he laughed and said, "Probably should have told you that on the train."

"I don't know," Tracey shrugged. "I do kind of like the respect I might get if that's true."

"Well fear isn't exactly respect," Erik teased.

"Greengrass, Daphne!"

Tracey glanced around, looking for Hermione, who must have already been sorted, and was disappointed to see that she had joined Gryffindor. She looked to the front of the hall silently as the hat paused, with Daphne underneath it, and then shouted:

"SLYTHERIN!"

Daphne almost literally threw the hat off her head as she smiled in excitement, running over and sitting across from Tracey and Erik. She looked to her right and waved, and her sister, with the same dark bronze hair, waved back, somewhat smiling. Daphne looked to Tracey, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"Slytherin! You and I!" she exclaimed.

"Very exciting," Tracey breathed, smiling as well.

"But I'm not surprised," she added smugly with a laugh.

Tracey only shook her head at Daphne and looked to the front of the hall as a small Asian girl with very long dark brown hair was sorted into Ravenclaw. She looked along the staff table, seeing Hagrid, a professor with a long silver beard and eyes that twinkled so brilliantly that she could see them from across the room. She continued along, raising an eyebrow at a teacher with an overlarge purple turban on his head, and then beside him...

Black connected with black and an eerie chill made the hairs at the back of Tracey's next stand. This was just _too _weird, she had never seen an eye color so close to hers before and until now. Tracey immediately looked away, breathing heavily.

"What is it? Are you okay?" Erik asked, looking down at her in concern.

"Who was it that you said I reminded you of?" Tracey asked quietly.

"Well, I didn't mean in exact features or anything, I didn't mean-"

"Just tell me, please," Tracey demanded.

"Professor Snape," Erik said quickly, then jerked his head toward the dark man up at the staff table.

Tracey glanced at him quickly, afraid of that eerie feeling she felt when their eyes connected.

"I got this weird feeling, Erik," she whispered, but was interrupted by McGonagall.

"Malfoy, Draco!"

The blonde stepped out of the line, that grew smaller and smaller as each first year was sorted, and sat on the stool confidently. The hat had barely touched his head, when-

"SLYTHERIN!"

Tracey and Daphne groaned, both for obviously different reasons.

"You know him, Tracey?" Daphne asked, glaring at the back of his head as he greeted his house mates with a smirk.

"Met him at Gringott's and ran into him before crossing the lake. I'm not exactly fond of him," Tracey muttered darkly.

"Well, his dad threatened my dad, because my dad owned him a little bit of money. I mean, come on, big deal, the man's too wealthy anyway," Daphne explained, her voice exasperated.

"Moon, Astrea!"

Daphne quickly turned to the front of the hall, anger forgotten, along with Tracey and Erik, all waiting silently as Astrea sat under the hat for nearly a minute.

Just as Tracey began to wonder if Astrea had fallen asleep, it yelled, "SLYTHERIN!"

Daphne gasped in shock, while Erik and Tracey cheered as loud as they could.

Astrea sat down next to Daphne, grinning rather complacently.

"Nice job, Astrea. Isn't this great? All of us in the same house!" Tracey said in excitement.

"Humph," Daphne muttered simply, before taking a deep breath and attempting to congratulate Astrea, who accepted it with a smile and a "thanks."

"Nott, Theodore!"

"Theodore Nott?" Erik repeated, eyebrows lowering darkly.

"I knew the name sounded familiar when he introduced himself," Astrea commented thoughtfully, as Daphne nodded.

"You talked to him?" Erik asked with wide eyes.

"Is there something wrong?" Tracey queried.

"Do you know who his father is? His bloody father! How could they let his child even come here," Erik ranted as the hat shouted "SLYTHERIN!". Erik continued, unfazed by the interruption, "His father was convicted for being a follower of You-Know-Who. He was one of the first Death Eaters to recommend raping and torturing muggles and muggle-borns."

"Are you kidding? And who's You-Know-Who?" Tracey questioned sharply, so shocked that she felt numb.

"No, and he's the man that lead the Death Eaters, caused so much terror in the wizarding world. Luckily, because of some baby, he's gone," Erik explained.

"What baby?" Tracey asked.

"Potter, Harry!"

_Author's Note: Oh please review, the last ones have helped this story come out so much faster, despite all the loads of homework I've received. Please, continue to inspire me, and tell me your thoughts on my characters, I've worked super hard on them._


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's Note: Wow, it's been a while, and I couldn't stop changing this chapter, and I hope it sounds good, because I'm too insecure to read through my own chapter write after I finish it. Which may have caused that F on an essay last year because I forgot to change the thesis… hmmm. Anyhoo, I decided to start replying to reviews in my stories instead of personally, not that I ever did, so that they'll only find out what I had to say to them by reading my new chapter. Very cunning…_

_**Deborah in L.A.—**Coolness, I'm from L.A., too, if you mean Los Angeles that is. I'm glad that you think about Snape when he had not even been mentioned, he's going to be a very important character… because I basically love him lots._

_**Swiftykenobi—**Thanks, I wasn't sure about how I had started this story…_

_**Bored with stuff—**I tried to make Tracey as realistic or like me as possible (and I never thought I'd be a realistic character) so thanks._

_**Clooless—**Tracey is strange, but very pessimistic and basically a realist. She's not the type of person who'd go to Hogwarts._

_**Sean Mulligan—**Merci, beaucoup. Thank you very much._

_**Kelly—** Expect more updates now._

_**Clooless—**Thank you very much, I was just as excited when I finally got my muse back. I'm just so relieved that I can write again._

_**Clooless—**My best reviewer, and most flattering. I thank you so much. I would go as far to call me magnificent, but fanfic author I draw my inspiration from is. J.L. Matthews, check her series out if you already haven't._

_**Silver ray42—**I'm glad you think so, and I'll really try to update as much as possible. With the way I'm managing my homework time, school won't be much of an interference. _

_**Rasmany—**Thanks. I wish I had a cat, too. But oddly enough I'm allergic. The irony._

_**Clooless—**I don't know… my imagination may be overreacting, too. But don't forget to pay attention to the other characters, I'm attempting a non-flat character story, which will be tough. I've created a lot of background on the other Slytherins that I'm looking forwrad to dishing out._

_**Silver ray42—**Hooked? On my story? That's amazing, I've been hooked on a story before, but never imagined someone would actually want to know what's going to happen in any of mine. Erik in the original Serpents and Muggle-borns was incredibly annoying to me, and his name was Sage. I'm glad that he's different now, and almost relieved, as well._

_**TheoNottFanatic—**That's exactly how I pictured him, and he's going to be as important as Snape and Tracey in this story. I've got big plans for him._

_**Randi—**Thanks. My gosh, those mistakes could have just been the drop of poison that ruined this story and hopefully series. Oh, don't worry, it's not Cho Chang, though she sure sounds like it doesn't she? No, that's Su Li, though I wish I had mentioned her name. She's going to be important, as well. But if I make any mistakes, feel free to point them out. I wouldn't feel like a true fanfiction writer if my facts were wrong._

_Disclaimer: Not mine. Not making money. Tear._

Chapter Six 

The entire hall went silent, with the exception of a clattering of knives from the Hufflepuff table (one of them seemed to have been telling a graphic story) and Daphne's nails tapping without rhythm on the table. Tracey watched as an almost familiar lanky and rather small boy walked up to the hat, not looking very special enough to have all this deep tension surrounding him. His glasses were almost slipping off his nose and his black hair was quite messy.

"That's him. The one whom defeated You-Know-Who," Erik whispered, watching expectantly as the hat was lowered onto the boy's head.

"If we get him, we'll have it made for the next seven years. Cross your fingers, Tracey," Daphne said quietly.

Tracey did as she was told, though she still didn't see what all the fuss was about.

It felt like forever until finally the brim opened wide and yelled:

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The entire Slytherin table groaned, except for Malfoy who was glaring at the poor boy as he went to the Gryffindor table, whose cheers masked the groans from the other houses.

"I'm not surprised," a Slytherin nearby commented dejectedly. "The Boyyy-Who-Lived was bound to be in the house of 'courage'."

"I thought the hat was supposed to be rather intelligent," another criticized, rolling his eyes.

"I don't get it," Tracey said, eyebrow lifted.

"He's famous, too famous probably. He ended the reign of terror of the Dark Lord himself! What have you done lately?" Astrea cried dramatically.

"I get it, I get it," Tracey replied, shaking her head.

_How could someone like _him_ possibly be a big hero?_ Tracey asked herself mentally. _He looks like one gust of wind could blow him off the Hogwarts grounds._

After "Zabini, Blaise" had been sorted and McGonagall had carried away the Hat and the stool, the twinkly-eyed professor stood, arms held out in welcome. His wide smile made Tracey feel a whole lot warmer than she had, as she noticed how astounding his presence was, no one spoke, they all waited for his words.

"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

He returned to his seat as everyone cheered and applauded this fascinating man.

"He's quite intriguing," Tracey commented thoughtfully.

"My sister can't stand him. Says he's too sweet and a bit too mad," Daphne replied simply, before gasping. "Food!"

Tracey looked back at the plates and was shocked to find them piled with food and her goblet filled to the rim with pumpkin juice. She didn't take time to question how it got there, she immediately dug in, having just remembered how hungry she was. After they had all stuffed themselves rather well and could settle for forkfuls at a time, conversations began.

"Well, I'm actually a half-blood," Erik stated, as he sipped from his drink. "My mum is a muggle, my dad is a wizard. He died when I was only two, so I was raised as any other normal muggle child after my mum got remarried to an account when I was five. We live in a house along the coast, it's the nicest one on the road and we have tons of technology that other muggles are completely unaware of at the moment."

"Rich muggles, that sounds rather odd," Daphne replied, laughing. "And what is this techknowledge?"

"Technology is a muggle's subsitute for magic, they're very well off, in fact. Not a bunch of barbarics as wizards like to say," Erik assured her.

"Surprising," Daphne shrugged.

"Well, I live with just my mum," Astrea announced proudly. "She taught me the fundamentals before I came here, so I'd be ready for it all. We live in a nice manor in the countryside that my mum had inherited from her grandfather, Alphardis or someone of that sort. She has taught me loads of defensive spells, because she's an auror. An auror, Tracey," Astrea explained, turning to her friend, "is like a muggle police officer, but of higher standing in the wizarding world."

"I see," Tracey returned almost mockingly.

"What about Tracey?" Daphne asked. "We know nothing about her."

"Uhh, well. I grew up in suburbia," Tracey said, "and in the muggle world, that's a place where all house are fairly big and all look almost exactly the same."

"Sounds a tad frightening," Astrea observed.

"It is," Tracey laughed, "and I went to a public school. It just so happens I was awaiting acceptance to a really good private school when the Hogwarts letter came, and obviously you all know which one I chose. I had a few friends, Samantha and Emily, if you could call them friends. I was completely different from them."

"See, muggles aren't that fantastic," Daphne remarked, attempting to appear intelligent and all-knowing.

"That's mine and her parents you're talking about. Be careful," Erik warned, eyebrow raised.

"Fine, fine. Well you all know how fantastically huge my house is and how wealthy my parents are, so we don't need to discuss me," Daphne stated.

"Fine by me," Astrea muttered beneath her breath.

"Oh, look! I know him," Daphne suddenly exclaimed, ignoring Astrea's words completely, as she reached across the table, beside Tracey, and tapped a boy on the shoulder.

"Montague!" she called, until he looked away from the person he was talking to. He stopped short, looking down at Daphne as if she was a bug he was craving to squash.

"Celie's sister, right?" he asked.

"Hardly," Daphne replied, smiling.

His face relaxed as he smirked at her, shaking the offered hand enthusiastically.

"Pleasure to see you again, Daphne," he said, then looked at the rest of us. "And who are these fantastic people?"

Tracey couldn't help but blush as Daphne introduced them all to him, he shook each of their hands pleasantly.

"How have you been?" Daphne asked him after all introductions were over.

"Fairly well, I'm looking forward to the tryouts for the Slytherin quidditch team, didn't make it last year."

"You're a great flyer, I'm sure you'll make it," Daphne replied and he smiled at her.

"Thanks."

After all the desserts had been ravaged by the sweet-toothed students, they all watched with full stomachs as the professor stood once more, whom Tracey now figured to be the Headmaster. The hall went silent as he began to speak:

"Ahem- just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

There was a pause in his speech, where Dumbledore's eyes flashed curiously toward the Gryffindor table, before resuming his speech.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

There were a few nervous chuckles from some of the other tables, that is, until they noticed that he was being rather serious and immediately whispers erupted about the hall, which were silenced when the Headmaster continued.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" he cried.

A dramatic change in mood occurred as the older years seemed to be preparing themselves for something very exciting and the first years looked about in confusement.

The Headmaster flicked his wand and shot a long golden ribbon out of it, twisting and forming itself into cursive lettering that seemed to be the school song.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune, and off we go!"

The entire hall seemed to take in one big breath before it began. Everyone was singing, different tones, different pitches, and different tunes. Dumbledore conducted them enthusiastically with his wand, apparently deaf to the horrible noise, that's sound quite resembled a dying animal:

"_Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

_Teach us something please,_

_Whether we be old and bald_

_Or young with scabby knees,_

_Our heads could do with filling_

_With some interesting stuff,_

_For now they're bare and full of air,_

_Dead flies and bits of fluff,_

_So teach us things worth knowing,_

_Bring back what we've forgot,_

_Just do your best, we'll do the rest,_

_And learn until our brains all rot."_

Tracey couldn't help but laugh at the rather silly lyrics, giggling until two redheaded twins had finished their funeral march version of the song and had bowed and sat down, the entire hall cheering, with Dumbledore applauding the loudest.

"Impressive," Astrea commented, looking at one of the twins with interest.

"Ah, music. A magic beyond all we do here! And now bedtime. Off you trot!" Dumbledore said, and all the students got up, heading toward the doors to the Entrance Hall.

"First years! Come on, you little-!" a tall and surly fifth year yelled, but was interrupted by a girl wearing the same badge as him.

"Let's go everyone, follow Flint here, he's the prefect who'll be showing you to your dorms," she announced to all of them, before turning and leaving with her friends.

Erik waved goodbye to them as he left with Montague and a girl with very short hair, until all that were left were first years.

"Come on!" the prefect called again, and lead them through the Entrance Hall and down a staircase Tracey hadn't even noticed when she had first arrived.

They went along the corridors, entering another door and down another staircase until the carpetting turned to cold stone and the warm atmosphere and tapestries had disappeared. The dungeons of the castle. Tracey shivered, wrapping her cloak tighter around her small body as some of the other first years did the same. It dark, damp and chilly, the walls looked suspicious, as well, perhaps suggesting that they were now under the lake.

"The common room is actually rather nice," Daphne assured Tracey as the latter breathed into her hands and rubbed them together for heat. "Or so my sister tells me."

"I hope so," Tracey muttered, arms folded over her chest, keeping the cloak close, warm and tight as they walked along in the darkness. "Otherwise, I may have to go back to the Sorting Hat and beg to be placed in another house."

Tracey ignored the shocked look she received by a nearby student and paused a moment, looking under her shoes.

"What is ist?" Astrea asked, curiously.

"I swear I stepped in something gooey and wet. Disgusting," Tracey grumbled, then sighed, continuing on, the two girls following suit.

"Classes start tomorrow, I believe," Astrea stated, walking on Tracey's left.

"I'm rather excited. I mean, we get to do spells! Something my parents were really strict about not letting me do. Like I was going to blow up the guest cottage or something," Daphne exclaimed, tugging at Tracey sleeve in excitement.

Tracey couldn't help but smile at her friend, depite the goo she suspected was on the bottom of her shoes.

"I can't wait either," she replied.

Immediately, the group of first years, with the addition of the sour fifth year, were stopped by a dead end. Everyone went silent, though a few whispered, wondering where they would go from there.

"Has he lost his way?" Tracey whispered, standing on her toes to see, but not needing the lift, seeing as she was one of the tallest there.

_"Callidus,"_ the fifth year hissed at the wall, looking quite silly until a hidden stone door slid away to reveal a deep, greenish glow from inside.

They all stepped through, looking in awe at the Slytherin common room. It was dark like the rest of the dungeons, and it had the appearance of what it actually was, a low underground room, but there was a warmth to it. Perhaps, it was the fire, glowing from the hearth to the right, the gray and forest green rugs here and there, the black dragon hide furniture (Daphne told this to Tracey, for Tracey had no idea that dragons actually existed), the lamps that hung low from the ceiling that were emitting the emerald glow, or the few people scattered about, relaxing. Yet Tracey felt this place felt so right, so unbelievably right. It connected with either some kind of cynical part of her, or the knowledge-seeking part of her, when she had noticed the book cases with dozens of leather-bound references and novels.

"Girls' dormitories through the green door, boys' dormitories through the black door. Now beat it, you little buggers," the fifth year announced, waving them off as he sat on one of the high-backed chairs, striking up a conversation with an attractive blonde.

The first years didn't need to be told twice, they all marched up the two spiral staircases, each leading up to a different colored door.

"What do you think the dormitories will be like?" Astrea queried, walking up the staircase, ahead of Daphne and Tracey.

"Beats me, they could be warm and fluffy and sweet," Tracey replied, smiling to herself, though she doubted the two girls found her joke very funny.

"I highly doubt that, Tracey," Daphne said, her voice at a tone that tried to match intelligence but fell short. "I mean, look at the common room."

"Well, I guess we'll see," Astrea stated as she pulled the green door open, revealing a very dark corridor full of even more doors.

The odd numbered dormitories, Tracey determined, appeared to be on the left. So she walked along, watching as seven turned to five, then five to three, then three to one.

"First years," she announced proudly, pulling the door open and stepping inside. She was immediately taken aback by the soothing heat that came from the room, despite its placement in the castle.

A furnace was placed in the center of the circular room, giving off heat, which was quite necessary in a dormitory in the dungeons. There were five four-poster beds surrounding said furnace, with green curtains, and a darker green bedding with gray pillows. Each of their trunks were placed at the foot of the beds, conveniently situated so that Tracey was between Daphne and Astrea. If Astrea and Daphne had been beside each other, it would have kept Tracey up, for they were the type of people to have late night banters.

Tracey plopped on her bed and was surprised to have Cat leap upon her lap, as Daphne seemed to be when her cat had done the same. And the two were soon entertaining themselves by attempting to make the cats friends, like the owners, but this proved fruitless, for both felines wanted more attention than the other and didn't care about making acquaintances.

Meanwhile, Astrea was sitting on her bed by a window, which showed evidence that their room was barely reached above ground, and was opening it as the door to the dormitory opened.

"Daphne Greengrass! You spoiled snob," a voice called from the doorway, though she seemed to be teasing, she wasn't too far from the truth.

"Pansy Parkinson!" Daphne exclaimed, leaping off Tracey's bed, where she had been sitting, and ran over to a girl with straight ebony hair that barely fell past her shoulders and narrow chestnut brown eyes.

They hugged and talked quickly in hushed voices, as a rather tall and bulky girl went straight to her bed.

"Wow, you guys aren't even tired?" Pansy asked, looking at Tracey and Astrea with interest.

Actually, Tracey was, but not until Pansy had mentioned it.

"Well, I think I'm going to bed," Tracey mumbled, feeling embarassed without reason, as Astrea did the same.

Tracey suspected that the two girls ended up talking well into the night, but she wasn't positive, she had fallen asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, dreaming of another pair of black eyes and what they meant.

-----------------------------------

The first week of school felt like a rush to Tracey, skimming by like the Hogwarts Express, leaving only a few leaves and dirt scattered in its wake. When morning

had arrived, after the Great Hall was found following much searching and wandering through the halls, and schedules had been passed out, the four Slytherins sat at their table, not eager to get up like the rest of their classmates and go to class.

"So, basically, Snape is a scary man, he'll come right into your face, like he doesn't know the meaning of personal space," Erik explained, grabbing a roll and taking a dramatic

bite out of it.

Daphne giggled.

"He's harsh, and I'm quite sure he's abusing his position," Erik continued after he finished chewing and had gulped it down loudly. "Luckily you don't have him until Friday, but unfortunately it's with the Gryffindors. I was a first year once, too."

"Gryffindors, I noticed that on the schedule," Astrea commented, grimacing.

"It's horrid," Daphne sighed.

"Well, we should go. I don't want to get lost before Charms class," Tracey said, standing up and slinging her book bag over her shoulder.

"She's right, let's go," Astrea agreed, and they all got up, grabbed their bags and headed out of the Great Hall.

There wasn't much of a rush to get to the first class of term, but they knew they had to hurry.

"Tracey, guys, wait!" Erik called as the girls began to climb up the marble staircase, while he was about to head to the dungeons.

They turned, looking at him expectantly.

He sighed, and pointed up, saying, "Go up to third floor, down the Charms corridor and you'll see the classroom, everyone will be entering, of course."

They nodded, and Tracey said, "Thanks, Erik."

"Don't mention it," he replied with a grin, waving to them as they continued up the stairs, before going down to the dungeons.

"Where's the charms corridor?" Astrea asked for the third time.

Tracey rubbed her temple, saying, "Let's just ask someone."

"That'd be a good idea... if there was anyone here!" Daphne exclaimed.

All three looked at each of the many doors, feeling helpless in their search, until, suddenly, Astrea was thrown to the ground in a heap of books, hair, and black robes with an unflattering squeak.

She breathed heavily in shock from the fall, picking herself up to see who had knocked her over.

"Hey!" she cried, pointing at the black-haired girl behind Tracey.

"Sorry," Pansy Parkinson breathed, clutching her book bag with one hand and tucking the straight tendrils of hair, that were escaping from her formerly perfect bun, behind her ear with the other.

"Do you know how to get to Charms class, Pansy?" Daphne asked her, smiling, as she stepped before Astrea, suddenly unfazed by the surprise she had received earlier that had made her cry out in fright.

"Yes, don't you?" Pansy replied simply, looking at each of them in surprise.

"No, actually. And why are _you_ late, anyway? If you know where the class is," Astrea snapped, brushing the dust from her robes.

"I left my books at the table," Pansy explained, unfazed by Astrea's furious tone. "Come on, I'll show you how to get there."

Tracey didn't hesitate to follow, motioning to the others to join their new guide. It was rather lucky that Pansy conveniently knew her way around, and, Tracey soon learned, was more than eager to show each of the girls where their classes were all that week, preventing any more tardies, with the exception of Charms class.

The week went by rather quickly, leaving no time for Tracey to realize what she was really getting herself into. Despite the excitement and certainty of Daphne that they were going to be waving wands and doing magic within the first week, the initial classes of term were nothing but lectures and note-taking. Luckily, by the end of Charms, Tracey had mastered the quill and was relieved to find that it magically sharpened its own tip (at least she wouldn't completely be caught in Medieval times), because the only thing on her mind as she got out her feathered writing utensil was how she'd be able to even use it.

But, other than that, she wasn't too stressed about how things would go this term. Note-taking and shorthand were her specialties, even though other students seemed to not even know what "shorthand" meant, and she could process what was being said throughout a lecture. Even through the most boring address, in a class called History of Magic (taught by a ghost who rather unintentionally made sure that the only exciting part of his class was when he entered through the chalkboard), was awkwardly getting easier for her. Tracey would furiously write notes while her classmates took naps that made drool puddles worthy of competing with the Nile River.

Transfiguration was different, but not much more difficult or easy. When their teacher, Professor McGonagall, the stern witch from the Sorting Ceremony, had turned her desk into a pig and back, the class was eager to get started. But she managed to spoil the excitement when they were immediately sentenced to the scribbling of many complicated notes.

"Now, you will each receive a match, and I expect you all to turn that match into a needle," Professor McGonagall explained, passing out matches to each of the students. "This does not have to be done by the end of class, because some of you may face some difficulty, but I do expect you to be able to correctly recite the incantation and properly do the spell by our next lesson."

She was right. The entire class had trouble as soon as they started, waving their wands rather dangerously and looking hurt when their match kept its wooden exterior.

After many tries Tracey at least managed to make it so one end was pointy, and Professor McGonagall nodded at her with a very small smile.

By the end of class, only Theodore Nott had succesfully completed the spell, and McGonagall congratulated him, though he did not reply.

Then followed Defense Against the Dark Arts, a class Tracey thought would be very impressive and interesting turned out to be anything but, though that was just her opinion. But she could tell by the disappointed looks on Malfoy and Astrea's faces, that she wasn't alone in this assumption. The classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which Tracey suspected came from the enormous purple turban on Professor Quirrel's head, and said professor had a terrible stutter and jumped at the slightest quick movement.

Tracey thought Herbology was a bore and not much was needed to be said about that.

But Astronomy was probably Tracey's favorite class, it took place on Thursday's at midnight and was all about the planets and stars, much more fascinating than magic, which was still difficult for Tracey to comprehend. Yet perhaps that was because she didn't want to admit that she had been wrong all those years about non-magical worlds and such. Tracey was damn stubborn and too, well, stubborn to admit it. But all went well that first week until...

The arrival of Friday had come upon them.

Daphne, Tracey and Astrea managed to make it to the Great Hall in small time, and had made sure that Pansy would be their guide for Potions earlier that morning, a class they would NOT want to be late to, and then afterwards her "services" would no longer be required.

Astrea sat down at the end of the table, followed by the other girls, braiding her hair and glaring at anyone that made the mistake of glancing over.

"I can't believe this," she said, grabbing her bookbag from Tracey's shoulder (who had been holding it for her as she did her hair), slamming it on the table, and ignoring the look from Malfoy, "Double Potions with the Gryffindors and with _Snape_."

"Just because we've gotten quite a few bad opinions about him, doesn't mean we can't come up with our own. What we heard might be just this, like, caricature of him," Tracey reasoned, glancing up at the High Table where Professor Snape sat glowering at the Gryffindor table. She sighed and added, "Or maybe not."

"No, Tracey, you're right," Daphne said, nodding. She took a seat across from Astrea and Tracey, grabbing an orange and some toast, looking over at Snape, as well. "Besides, isn't he supposed to favor us or something like that?"

"Right. But I sure didn't feel that last year and yesterday," a voice said from behind Daphne, and Erik took a seat beside Daphne, a load books in his arms. "Every time I go to that class he either glares at me or scares me half to death when I try and steal a nap."

"Gee, it can't be because of those naps, could it?" Astrea replied sarcastically.

"I doubt it. He just hates me. Probably knows I'm a half-blood or something," Erik shrugged, grabbing some toast and taking a quick bite. "He seems like the type."

"I don't get what's so bad about not coming from a full magical parentage. You're no less powerful than anybody else here," Tracey said, eyebrows raised.

"Do I have to explain again?" Daphne sighed dramatically.

"Just ignore it all Tracey," Astrea said, shooting a glare at Daphne. "All that matters is that you do your best. Then you can show those twats that you mean business and they aren't worthy of you."

"Yes, I should," Tracey mumbled, crossing her arms on the table and resting her head against them.

When Erik offered her a roll, she declined quietly, staring at Snape, wondering if his views of her would be the same as his views of Erik. And if Erik was honestly right about Snape's discrimination.

Astrea glanced down at Tracey solemnly and muttered, "It's going to be a long day."

--------------------------------

When Snape had burst into the dungeons, door slamming against the wall loudly, and at first glance only his billowing black robes noticed, Tracey felt like her heart had jumped into her throat, and not in a cheesy, romantic way.

He stopped at his podium, gracefully leaning on it as he looked at each and every face in the class, stopping a little longer than usual on Harry Potter, then Tracey, causing her to feel that frightened chill when their eyes connected. She nervously lowered her face, shuffling her pieces of parchment and nudging Astrea, who sat beside her.

"I know, I know," Astrea muttered, lifting her head and wiping at her mouth in exasperation. She then suddenly froze when Snape's stare returned to her, his eyes menacing.

She sat up straighter and awkwardly avoided his glare, pretending to look through her pieces of parchment.

"I will take roll," he said softly, his quiet baritone of a voice felt, yes, _felt_ as if it could penetrate walls.

Tracey took a deep breath and wondered how she would survive seven years of this class.

"Davis, Tracey," he suddenly said, and Tracey sat up quickly, eyes large and scared.

"Present," she practically whispered, and he nodded almost indifferently.

Seven years suddenly felt like forever.

_Author's Note: Oh my gosh! You almost forgot to review! Just click the little button down there and tell me what you think, and any constructive criticism. By the way, ignorant flames are not even close to **constructive** criticism._


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